


For the Pay

by SteamDrunk



Category: Warhammer - All Media Types, Warhammer Fantasy, kharadron overlords
Genre: Action, Aetherpunk, Airships, Arkanauts, Duardin, Dungeonpunk, Order, Skyfarer, Skyvessels, Steampunk, monster hunter - Freeform, sky kraken
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-18 08:01:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15481272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SteamDrunk/pseuds/SteamDrunk
Summary: When predators of the sky are drawn to your ships, and you’re too cheap to call out the Grundcorp, who do you call? When you fail the Grundcorp entrance exams and you desperately need a job, where do you go? Looking for a team of monster hunters to deal with that pesky cloudadon that’s not eaten enough Duarden to be considered worth Grundcorps time? Then look no further than the Beast Beating Battle Fleet.Toft sits alone in the stripped down Gunhauler, ‘Worm’, regretting he’d ever signed up for being a “Bait Pilot” on this hunting expedition. The Pay was threefold, but you don’t collect your earnings if you’re dead!





	For the Pay

The Murk-cloud stirred and bubbled, mere feet from the Gunhaulers hull. The dark sickly murk below reflected Tofts mood accurately, doom and anxiety broiling inside him. He squeezed the wheel, gently turning as he made another circuit, glancing over his shoulder though his goggled mask, searched for signs in the gloom.

He struggled to control his breathing, his shallow panting into his rebreather, fighting against the paranoia that squeezed his chest and tore at his mind. He couldn’t miss it, he mustn’t, too much was riding on him. But every movement of the greasy murk could betray the Predators movements. His nerves were shot, he’d been exposed for too long, flinching at every shadow, shuddering at every breeze.

The empty seat to his left was only another reminder of how alone out here he was, away from the main fleet that silently glided above him, propellers on low, surfing the currents. The Pistol holstered at his side was no relief either, a single shot for a single purpose. Any weapon on this ship that could have protected him was chopped by the company to “recover assets”. The closest thing to comfort Toft had was the revving of his motors, low and loud, filling the cold, silent sky. While he could rev, he had aether gold and this stripped Skyship could take him away from the horrors that lay below him.

There! 

The murk moved, rippling and waving in the way he dreaded. Toft let out an involuntary scream as adrenaline and terror overcame his already battered mental state. His hands worked feverishly to shift gear, pointing his prow skywards into the deep blue. Behind him, dark tentacles erupted from the smog bank, curling and twisting towards him like possessed Cumulus Eels, but Toft dared not look back, determined to flee to the open sky above him.

As the black masses appeared in the corners of his vision, he let out another unintelligible yell, pulling the lever and releasing his payload. Between the writhing dark tendrils dropped the Caustic Aether mines, silently slipping into the mist. Toft pushed his foot harder onto the accelerator, unable to force the pedal any further into the worn metal floor, and squeezed his eyes shut, counting in his head as he own screams rang in his helmet.

5… 4…

The silent mines hurtled past the obscured monstrous form, the currents it generated around itself guiding the payloads on their way, unseen by its blind gaze focused upward on its noisy prey.

3… 2…

Its tentacles snagged the small ship, black barbed tentacles wrapping around the ships hull and balloon, suckers shredding its paintwork. The ship was tossed off course, pulled away from the blue sky as its engine impotently screamed. Toft still did not open his eyes, focusing on his counting. This was the only thing that could save him now, but it had… to be… timed… just…

1… NOW!

Tofts eyes shot open and he slammed his palm onto the big red button poking out of the crudely sawn hole in the cockpit control panel. The small gun in the front of his alcove erupted, blasting a bright, screaming flare high above him.

Soft thumps rose through the Murk to Tofts ears, signalling the bursting of the mines and the quickly rising poison, rushing up to meet the Leviathan, but it barely registered. He wrestled to keep control of his ship, trying to accelerate through the grip of the beast. In frustration and panic, he reached for his pistol and shot at the tentacle sliding towards him across the ships deck. The impact rang like a gong as the shot blasted the tendril apart and glanced off the decking beneath it.

It took a moment to realise what he had done, staring down at the one shot pistol. He had wasted his shot, his way out. It was nowhere near enough to free the vessel and now his fate lay in the hands of his company, speeding towards him across the sky. As Toft through his weight behind the wheel, struggling to keep his ship sky-bound, his mind screamed out for help, pleading with some unknown force, to let him live, let his comrades get to him in time to slay the beast that dragged his ship down towards it.

The Leviathan let out a wail, screaming as the burning vapour clawed at its underbelly. The beast rose from the murk, the mass of tentacles giving way to a hulking blubbery mass, fins the size of sails, flapping erratically as the melting membrane touched by the poison aether slid from its bones. As the beast climbed into the frosty clear air, it clung tight to Tofts skyship. Now the creatures mouth was no longer hidden by the cloud, Toft was greeted with the sight that went beyond his worst nightmares about this moment.

In its rage, the monster squeezed the tiny ship in its grasp, hull and balloon buckling beneath its might. In his panic, Toft abandoned his post, grabbing his axe and swinging wildly at the tentacles, balancing however he could atop the bucking and swinging vessel.

The fleet saw its opportunity and Skyhooks slammed into the beasts sides. The beast let out another scream of pain, trying to escape, but the fleets engines were already in reverse, pulling the chains tight and restraining the animal in place. 

Tentacles swatted and flicked at the advancing ships, striking the Strangled Trout in its balloon, causing the ship to swerve wildly. The Endrineers rapidly climbed to the deep dent in its iron dome, as the pilots fought for control. Barbs flew like arrows towards the ships, ringing off the hulls and chipping the paintwork. Duardin ducked for cover, some weren’t lucky and were to their vessels, impaled on black spikes longer than skypikes. 

In unison, the guns of the fleet fired, puncturing the dark skin of the beast with their Aethershot Carbines. Deep red blood burst forth in plumes, spraying the murk clouds crimson. The thrashing beast still held Toft in its clutches, the vessels metal screaming and bending unnaturally as the creature took out its impotent rage on its hostage. Toft yelled and waved at the fleet from the deck of his ship, trying to catch their attention as they lay into their prey.

Tofts ship began to slide towards the screaming maw of the beast, but one Gunhauler braved the black writhing forest to save Toft, expertly dodging and weaving as they sped towards him. Hope sparked in Toft as he reached out for his comrade, but this was quickly snatched away, as his saviour was side swiped and the vessel was sent screaming into the poisoned murk below, leaving only a trail of black and gold smoke.

Tofts ship was hoisted over the mouth of the Kraken, sickly yellow and brown, serrated teeth jutting from slick black gums. As the stench of the creatures breath pierced Tofts mask, the last of his wits left him. There was no hope. No one was coming for him. He had wasted his suicide shot and nothing but an agonising death awaited him. His life had been a waste, unable to provide profit and status for his family. Even the pay-check they’d receive from his service here would only be three times base pay for a pilot, barely enough to repay their investment in him.

An un-code-ly calm descended on his mind, like a thick bank of flog obscuring a burning lamp. He had one shot. One remaining sliver of hope. It was a long shot, the longest of them, but it was all he had. Dislodging his axe from the deck, Toft hefted it in his gloved hands, he raised his mothers farewell gift above his head, sharp and barely used in the few weeks since he left, he stepped upon the railing of his ship.

In the centre of the chaos, with the Ships descending on its bounty and the beast straining and thrashing against its restraints, there was a moment when the eyes of the fleet were on Toft. It was a slow moment, a quiet in the storm raging around him. 

“For Barak Urbaz! The Fish Fighting Fleet! AND MY NEXT PAYCHECK!” He launched himself into the open air and dived into the waiting jaws of his fate, swinging his axe wildly, and the darkness enveloped him and his ship.

***

Commodore Spriggix sat in the under stuffed leather seat, looking across at the Overseer. She gently signed tiredness with Emosi hand signals. It had been a long journey and the smell within her worn Urbaz maroon body suit was getting worse every minute, she feared her sweat would tarnish the steel under her pits. 

And, to top it all off, this pile of Hovershark tripe in a gold-gilded suit hadn’t even given them a drink to wash down his terrible offer. The Overseer had removed his helmet, placing his armoured face on the desk in front of him, an obvious sign of disrespect during negotiations. 

“For five days, three of my Ironclad hauled that beast back here, on time, as per our contract,” If the annoyance in the Commodores voice wasn’t enough, the angry hand gestures were. “And then you dishonour yourself by giving me a divvy that doesn’t even cover the Aether Gold used to get it?”

“I think you’ll find...” The nasally voice of the Overseer wafted from his wiry beard. “Our contract stated that you were to deliver 200 tons of the Black Barbed Sky Kraken. My Computators estimate you’ve only delivered 197.6 tons, so you’re liable to deductions for failure to fulfil all criteria laid out in the contract and stealing what’s rightfully mine.”  
“Robbery!” chimed in Lieutenant Onss, the curly copper moustache smile on his faceplate in contrast the sound disgust in his voice. “Its not our bonesy fault you underestimated the size of beast! Code breaking is what this is!”

“Don’t pull my beard, lumpy,” Snorted the Overseer, ignoring Onss. “That’s all you’re getting. Who do you think you are? Grundcorp?” The Overseer chortled into his beard, instinctively signing amusement, even with his mask resting on the desk. Onss stepped forward, but Spriggix put up a hand and pushed him back.

“We lost seven good Duarden and two ships,” the Commodores voice was calmer, smoother. Her hand gently waved back and forth, the precise angling of the fingers signalling a calm smile, although the cast iron goatee and eyebrows of her helmet was a far more accurate description of her mood. “The code clearly states we’re owed at least…” Commodore was cut off as yells came from the butchery floor. All three rushed to the door overlooking the hanger to see the commotion, followed the pointing and signing of distress.

The Beasts mouth was twitching, seemingly alive again. Guns cocked around the hall, as the half dismantled cadaver defied nature, its tongues and gums sliding around like some hideous mockery of speech. Before the workers could shoot, the slimy prow of a Gunhauler unceremoniously slid from the folds of the beasts mouth, slowly followed by the rest.  
The ship slid over entrails and a slick bloody floor, before the beast moved again. From the stinking maw of the beast walked a figure, clad helmet to boot in gunk and gore, tottering and sliding as his feet met solid ground. He swung around, his gaze trying to focus though the bright lights he had found himself in, holding an almost empty bottle of fire whisky to shield his eyes. He finally focused as the Commodore and Lieutenant came into view, clumsily snapping to attention.

“Pilot Toft! Reporting for duty, sah!” Toft saluted, forgetting the axe in his right hand and cracked himself in the faceplate. He fell over back into the greasy jaws behind him, unconscious. A round of applause and cheering came from the gantry above, where the crews of the Beast Beating Battle Fleet had been watching. The only member of the Fleet not celebrating was the Commodore. 

“Six good Duarden,” chuckled the Overseer, signing amusement. “And one ship. I think you’ll find my offer within the code… just.” The Commodore refused to sign what she was feeling, as it would be inappropriate for trade negotiations.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you have any constructive criticism, I'd love to hear it. If you want more, please Kudos.


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